


The Meaning of Home

by Caden_Parker



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Age gap relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Homelessness, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Sugar Momma Regina, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swan-Mills Family, Vulnerable Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caden_Parker/pseuds/Caden_Parker
Summary: Emma’s 20, but she’s been living on the streets since she was seventeen. She has always had a dark past, for as long as she can remember. Surviving off of wits and the money she gets in very unorthodox ways, she does what she needs to in order to survive.When she  stumbles onto a beach-front vacation house that seems empty, she thinks she’s hit the jackpot. Enter Regina Mills, owner of said vacation house, coming to spend a relaxing week with her 3 year old son, Henry.And so begins the process of healing.





	1. E Is For Ectasy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: I don’t own ‘Once Upon A Time.’ 
> 
> AN: This story is an AU, but Emma is still Emma, albeit a little younger, and Regina is still Regina, though a little older. The only thing in consistency with the show is Storybrooke, there is no Enchanted Forest, no Cyclopes’, no magic. Well, except for the magic that Henry creates in his little head. 
> 
> This story deals with touchy subjects: Suicidal ideation, drug use, rape, emotional and physical abuse, homelessness, PTSD… Basically, all the evils in the world. I very rarely write fluffy shit, but it’ll probably worm its way in here eventually. Don’t read this if any of it might be triggering to you.
> 
> Drug Reference: A 'bomb' in this context is a crushed up ecstasy pill wrapped in cigarette paper. It is meant to be swallowed. 
> 
> One last Note: Regina is 32 in this fic. I have not made changes to her character, but to her wardrobe. She is less “Stepford Housewife” and more “Hot lesbian mom with button-up’s, blazers and tight pants who occasionally speaks Spanish.” No high-heels. Lipstick is still in place, though. ;)

 

 

_“And I know how you feel, and I know you ain’t got no reason to go on;_

_I know you feel that you must be through, go on and sit right back down. I want you to count, count your fingers,_

_my unhappy, my unlucky little girl blue.”_  
  
~Janis Joplin – Little Girl Blue

_**Emma’s Pov** _

_“And don’t come back, ya fuckin’ dyke!”_ That’d been three years ago, when I’d gotten caught with my foster father’s daughter in bed. Fuckin’ prick had me at gunpoint while he threw all my shit out the door. Guess I should be thankful it was all in a goddamn trash bag. Up until that point, I’d lived with this asshole, (Frank), his bimbo of a wife (Alice), and his whore of a daughter, (Ruby). The Lucas’ were my last foster family, and as dysfunctional and fucked up as they were, at least I had a roof over my head. And, it was a hell of a lot better than the situation I was in now.

 “C’mon, baaabbyy,” Lilly cooed in my ear, “A little E will make you feel sooo much better! I promise.” She draped herself over me, clutching at my black leather jacket and sloppily kissing my neck.

 “Lil, stop.” I wasn’t in the mood for this shit. I’d sobered up because somewhere in my foggy brain, I’d realized I needed to take care of her drugged-out ass. _Thanks for killin’ my fucking buzz,_ I thought bitterly. Why had I let her talk me into this after-party, anyway? “What part of _stop_ don’t you fuckin’ understand?” I growled, pushing her away from me. She lost her balance and fell off my lap into the floor littered with Bud Light cans, half-smoked cigarettes, and bombs, which had been her idea to bring. Killian laughed from his armchair, took another hit from his bowl and grinned at me.

“Emmaaa,” my girlfriend whined from the floor, before erupting into a fit of giggles. “A, B, C, D, E, E, E,” she sang. “I love you, Em–ma.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright,” I said, leaning down and shaking her shoulder, “Get up. I’ve got enough for a motel room, we can stay there for tonight.” I didn’t tell her I’d blown a trucker outside of Boston for the cash. She didn’t move. “Lil?” I frowned, swept dark brown hair out’ve  her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was partly open, and spit was making a puddle on Killian’s carpet. “Shit.” I shook her harder. “Lil?” No answer. I gentled my voice, even as my heart beat painfully in my chest. “Baby? Lil, open your eyes. Please, baby,” I stroked her cheek with the backs of my fingers. Nothing. “Kill, call a fucking ambulance, _now_!” I screamed, stepping over her only to kneel on her opposite side and roll her on her back to check for a heartbeat. It was there, faint and flickering like candlelight.

My friend’s bleary blue eyes cleared at that, and as he rushed to the kitchen to call, I took up all the bombs and Killian’s bowl and went to flush it. Rinsing out the bowl in the bathroom sink, I stowed it in the cabinet underneath before running back to Lily.

“They’re on their way,” he said, voice panic-stricken. “Shit, what if she’s –”

“Don’t,” I ground out, adrenaline causing me to constantly check her pulse with my fingers, even though it hadn’t changed. “Don’t you dare say that to me, Killian.” He kept his mouth shut. I could see his frown deepen every time I moved my glasses to wipe my eyes.

Her pulse stopped when they got there.

***

I said no when they asked me if I wanted to come back and say goodbye. I could picture her in my head well enough: Still, pale, deep brown eyes milky before they closed them. Killian put his arm around me. His stump, where his left hand used to be before he lost it to a saw at his job, rested against his pant leg. He didn’t say anything, just rubbed my shoulder like he knew the inadequacy of the word sorry when you say it because you have nothing else to say. Dry-eyed and unblinking, I stared at the wall. _White roses were her favorite… I hope her parents remember that._ Getting up, I walked to the information desk and asked for a pen and a piece of paper. I wrote her parents a note on a clipboard settled in my lap.

_Mr. and Mrs. Page,_  
_I’m sorry about Lily. I should have done more for her, I know._  
_I have never felt as vile as I do now._  
_I loved your daughter, and if you doubt everything else about me, never doubt that._  
_Her favorite flowers were white roses..._  
_I know that you didn’t know me very well_ , _but could you please place a daisy with her when the time comes?_  
_They are my favorite flower. And then she’ll know I’m always with her._  
  
_Respectfully, Emma Nolan Swan_

 

I folded it and handed everything back to the nurse. She gave me a sad smile and promised her parents would get the note.

 

Killian walked me out to my car. It was a beat-up 1969 lemon-yellow Volkswagen Beetle, (Lil had taught me a lot about cars), that I’d stolen in Portland, Oregon. Well, not _stolen_ , more like _repossessed_. That’s where I’d met her. She’d been sleeping in the back when I'd picked the lock on the driver’s side and gotten in, looking for a place to sleep.  I’d been seventeen at the time, and Lilly, instead of kicking me out, just smiled knowingly and handed me an extra blanket.

The next morning she’d bought us coffee and donuts. She never told me where she got the money from. _“So,_ she’d asked, propping her legs up on the dash, _“What brings ya out here_?”  I had shrugged and took a sip of coffee, had kept my gaze on the slowly-filling parking lot. _“S’ok, you don’t haveta tell me.”_ But I had wanted to tell her. I’d wanted to be rid of all the guilt and anger in my head, and here was a person actually asking me. So I’d swallowed the chunk of glazed donut in my mouth, looked at her, and said “My foster father caught me in bed with his daughter.”

Her eyes had widened, and then she did something I hadn’t been expecting, she’d laughed. A high, sweet sound that sounded like freedom. _“No shit,”_ she’d said, before looking at me with a gleam in her onyx eyes, _“I thought I  felt some Sapphic vibes comin’ off  you.”_   I’d blushed and grinned at her. The leather seat she was sitting in creaked as she leaned forward, a tan thumb came to rest on the side of my mouth, wiping at the sugar there.  _"_ _How old are you, sweet thing?”_ she’d asked gently. I’d studied her face. She had full lips, a little pinker than mine, large hoop earrings obscured by her long dark brown hair, a stud in her nose. I’d glanced down. An army-green midriff shirt and tight faded jeans. She’d had a diamond belly-button ring and her stomach was flat but still soft-looking. I’d licked my lips nervously and slowly dragged my eyes back up to meet hers.

_“S –Seventeen,_ ” I’d stuttered.

She’d smirked, wiped her thumb on her jeans before fully cupping my face. _“I’m twenty-three. You ever been with an older woman before?”_ I shook my head. _“Do you wanna be? I could take you to a world you never knew existed, sweet thing.”_

_“I – Uh, I mean…”_

She’d laughed again. _“I’m clean, don’t worry. I’m always careful_.”  With her free hand she’d started stroking my thigh, and the slight throb I had felt between my legs intensified ten-fold. _“You can say no if you want, sweet thing. I’m not into pressuring people."_ I’d said nothing, just kissed her and let myself get lost in softness.

 

“Emma? Emma?” Killian was snapping his fingers in front of my face. I looked from the car to him.  His black eyebrows  were furrowed as he looked at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered, “ I was just… remembering.”

He nodded. “Do you… want to stay with me?” he asked slowly, “I have room if –”

“No, Kill,” I said, forcing a smile, “I’m – I’m gonna get outta here for awhile. I...need to go.”

“Where ya going?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’m alright for tonight. I’ll probably head up to the Cape, get a room. It’s only an hour from here.” He nodded and I watched his look turn wistful. “Hey,” I murmured, patting his scruffy cheek, “Wherever I end up, I’ll let ya know.” My friend kissed my cheek and drew me into a hug. He smelt like Old Spice and leather. The single silver cross earring he always wore clinked against his jaw as he swallowed roughly and pulled back.

“Go on then, love. Be safe.” We shared another smile before I got into the car.

“By the way,” I said after I had rolled down the window and fished my sunglasses out of the glove department, putting my regular glasses back in their case and tossing them in, “I left your bowl in the cabinet under the sink.”

***

**_Flashback_ **

_“I wanna touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes… Love, I don’t like to see so much pain, sooo much wasted, and this moment keeps slipping away…”_ Lilly sang softly in my ear, gently pressing her fingers to my clit. I shuddered, gripped her shoulders. The plaid shirt she’d been wearing was now draped around her forearms, and her chest rose and fell with mine. Rain pattered on the Bug’s roof like hands on a drum. Peter Gabriel’s voice was staticky, but the nice kind where it’s in the background and not interrupting the words. My back stuck to the seat, slick with sweat. I brushed the hair out of her face, panting in her ear as she sucked my neck. She moved her hand in my jeans and eased one finger inside me. My hips bucked violently, and I gripped her so hard I was convinced she’d have bruises in the morning.

 I’d stayed quiet the whole time, apart from moaning. She had wanted me to talk to her, but whenever I tried my throat closed up.

_“Emma…”_ she murmured, _“I love you.”_ I unraveled when she said that, sobbing as I came. She held me as close as she could, shushing me. _“It’s okay, I’ve got you… I’ve got you, baby. Shhh…”_

_“I – I…”_   But the words wouldn’t come.

She laid me back down, smiling gently. _“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it. I know.”_

**_End of Flashback_ **

I'd never said that I loved her when she was alive. It had always been her saying  _'I love you'_ and me saying  _'Me too,'_ and kissing her because fuck words and their way too deep meaning. But I laid in bed that night, curled up in a ball on a dirty mattress with too-thin blankets, thinking of all the ‘what if-s’ and ‘should-haves’ and giving myself a migraine.

“I did love you, Lil,” I whispered as the damn behind my eyes finally broke free, and sobs wracked my body, “I really did.”


	2. A Day In The Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Mi principito is Spanish for 'My little prince.' (I think, if it's wrong blame Google Translate.)
> 
> Poppet: British- Term of endearment meaning young and/or sweet child.
> 
> Hijo: 'Son' in Spanish.
> 
> Buenos días: 'Good morning' in Spanish. (An obvious one, but I decided to put it here anyway.)
> 
> Shag: British - Fuck.
> 
> Legless: British - Drunk/wasted.

**_Regina’s Pov_ **

_Ugh._ I sent the text to my sister, sipping my wine and hoping that a slight buzz would make what was left of this date more bearable.

_Aw, Sis... What’s the matter with **this** one?_

_She is ditsy and incapable of talking about anything other than herself. You know I loathe un-stimulating conversations._

_I didn’t set you up with Natalie for intellectual purposes, Regina._ I could practically see her rolling her eyes. _My hope was that she’d take care of your ‘I haven’t been shagged in years’ dilemma and **stimulate** other parts of you! You should be thanking me, you know. Poppet is fast asleep in his bed. Make use of tonight, for pity’s sake! _ I sighed, took another sip of my wine.

_I know you mean well, Ze, but please, no more setting me up with women I have absolutely nothing in common with. I’ll be home in an hour._

Natalie reappeared then, back from the restroom. She beamed at me and almost tripped on her way back to the table. I forced a tight-lipped smile as she tried to keep her shimmering, skin-tight Pepto-Bismol pink dress from riding up when she sat. “Are you ready to go?” I asked, “It’s getting pretty late.” It wasn’t really, only 8:30, but I’d reached my limit with this insufferable twenty-nine year old who insisted on acting with such an uncouth demeanor.

She nodded, beamed again. “Yeah, sure. Hang on a sec.” And she began to unceremoniously stuff breadsticks into her purse. I thumbed the bottom button of my black dress shirt, only looking up again when I felt her gaze on me.

 

“Do you wanna come up?” She asked it in a way that told me I could have her in five seconds flat if I said yes. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. _Sorry, darling, self-centeredness and blatant whoring doesn’t get me off._

“No, thank you. Thank you for the lovely evening, Natalie.”

She nodded, looked crestfallen. I shoved my hands in my jean pockets as she fiddled with her apartment key. When neither of us spoke after a moment or two, I gave a smile and bid her goodnight. As I turned and started walking towards my silver Mercedes SUV, she grabbed my arm gently and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Goodnight, Regina,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Natalie,” I said in a much softer tone than I’d been using with her previously, “Sleep well.”

***

All was still when I returned home. The porch light had been left on for me, and Zelena was snoring softly on the couch. Melancholy washed over me as I stepped out of my heeled boots and padded on socked feet over to the sofa to cover my sister with the throw on the back of it. Would it always be like this? Coming home to no one but my sister and my little boy? Not to say that I didn’t love them dearly; Zelena knew I would do anything for her and my love for my son knew no bounds, but I was lonely, admittedly, and ached to feel love again. It had been far too long since I’d held a woman in my arms… since she’d held me.

_**Flashback - Five Years Ago** _

_"I can't_ _do this anymore, Regina,”_ Mal whispered, over dinner. _“It’s not far to Phil.”_

 _“Mal,”_ I said shakily, my eyes already filling with tears as I looked into her gray ones.

_“I’m so sorry, darling, but he’s my husband, I can’t –”_

I gave a watery, disbelieving laugh. _“You **can’t**?! We’ve been doing this for three years, Mal! You’ve been fucking me behind your husband’s back for **three** years! I thought – _and then my voice cracked _“– I thought we were having this dinner because…”_ I swallowed, _“Because you finally decided to come **home** to me.” _

_"Oh, Regina…”_ she breathed, reaching for my hand across the table.

 _“No!”_ I yelled, pulling away and spilling wine on my dress as I stood. _“I don’t want to hear it! Get out.”_ She just stared at me, biting her lip and crying. _“You have **no** right to cry, Maleficent Page,” _ I said, pointing a shaking finger at her, then the door. _“Get. Out. Of. My. House,”_ I seethed.

_“Re–”_

__“_ Need I drag you out, **darling**?” _ I growled with so much malice she winced, causing me to smirk cruelly. _"Now get the hell out of my life."_  
  
**End of Flashback**

I sighed, the whistle of my tea kettle bringing me out of my thoughts. It was chamomile and I had a cup every night to help with sleep. As I sipped the brew, an idea struck me, and I went to my study to send an email to my assistant, Sidney Glass. 

To: [SGlass@Stroybrooke.net](mailto:SGlass@Stroybrooke.net)

From: [R.Mills@Stroybrooke.net](mailto:R.Mills@Stroybrooke.net)

Subject: Taking a Week

Sidney, I am taking a week off starting Monday. I will be reachable via phone should you require immediate clarification on an urgent matter. Try to keep the  town from burning to the ground in my absence.

Mayor Regina Mills

That was one of the benefits of being mayor: As long as my paperwork was in order and I had no pressing obligations, my profession allowed for a flexibility not found in many careers. And maybe a vacation with my son was just what I needed to rid myself of the looming melancholy at the edges of my mind. I glanced at my watch. 10:35.  I decided it was much too late to call Henry’s nanny, even though the woman did not usually retire until this time. I’d call her in the morning. Stifling a yawn, I turned off my laptop and headed up the stairs, stopping to check on my boy. A little lump rose and fell beneath a Tigger comforter. I opened the door softly and stepped in, gently lowering myself onto the edge of his bed.

“I love you, mi principito,” I whispered, kissing his head. I had adopted him three years ago, as I had been told I would never be able to have children of my own. But when I had first laid eyes upon him in the adoption agency, the only thing I could think was: _You_   _will be loved._ I’d been informed – rather curtly – that no one had wanted him due to his being born with a cleft lip. I had loved him all the more after hearing that. And so my little boy became mine, the cleft lip surgically removed at infancy. Henry was indeed my little prince, bringing a light to my life and a softness to my heart that I had thought myself undeserving of. With one final kiss to his hair, I stood up and went to my own bedroom across the hall, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove my socks before shimmying out of my jeans and unbuttoning my shirt. I typically slept in a silk pajama set, but as it was in the washer and I lacked the energy to go back downstairs and get it, I settled for long, thin cotton pants and a white tank-top.

On nights such as these, I found myself wondering about Henry’s birthmother. What kind of woman she was, whether or not she had his smile, his eyes. Did Henry look more like his father? I envisioned Henry’s mother to be kind, as he was, pensive about giving him up. The other possibility was not one I cared to dwell on. I hoped that she didn’t hate herself for the decision she made. In my opinion, it was a noble thing, giving away your flesh and blood for the chance at a better life. It was selfless. The ultimate sacrifice. Had she chosen to not remain anonymous in regards to Henry’s paperwork, I’d at least have a name, but sadly even that was out of my grasp. Should my son ever ask, I’d tell him his birthmother loved him; he didn’t need to know anything else.

***

“Mommy!” I grinned into my pillow at my son’s excited squeal. The next thing I heard was the patter of bare little feet on the hardwood floor and disappointed whines when he couldn’t get himself up on my bed.

“Here now Poppet,” Zelena chuckled, “Up you go.” I felt the bed shift as he was lowered onto it, and then boney knees poking into my left kidney as he said in a loud sing-song whisper: “Mommy, you gotta wake up now!” Letting out a sigh, I lowered the comforter with an exaggerated flourish and made a show of snoring while keeping my eyes closed.

“Mommy, you’re not asleep,” Henry laughed.

“I am, hijo,” I said, but a grin had already broken free and so I gave up my rouse and opened my eyes. Two little arms enthusiastically wrapped themselves around my neck, and I kissed his cherub cheek in response. “Buenos días, Henry.”

“Buenos días, Mommy,” he repeated, and I smiled.

“Very good, my little prince. Now, are you hungry?”

“Yeah!”

“Shall I make pancakes?” His eyes grew comically wide.  I combed his mop of thick, dark-brown curls with my fingers and chuckled at the joy on his face from the mention of food. “Go with Auntie Ze, darling, I’ll be there in a moment.” Zelena came forward from her place in the doorway and lowered him back to the ground, his blue and green dinosaur pajamas bunching with the movement. He walked out of the room, slowly making his way down the stairs so he could beat his aunt and be the first one in the kitchen.

“Coffee, Sis?” she asked knowingly, a little jab at the fact that she knew I’d drank a bit too much last night. I gave her a thankful smile and nodded; my head had begun to pound a little. “I will never understand you,” she said teasingly, “You’ll get yourself legless on cheap-arse booze, just to avoid a shag.”

“No,” I corrected, “I drank so that her continuous warbling became bearable. It worked, but only momentarily.”

“And you wonder why you haven’t had any in years,” my sister laughed, “It’s sad, Regina.”

“No, what’s sad is my _straight_ sister trying to find partners for me. Your taste in women is atrocious, Ze.”

“Says the woman whose last relationship was five years ago with an absolute –”

“Auntie Ze!”

“Coming sweetheart!” she called.

“I know, I know,” I sighed tiredly.

Zelena’s crystal-blue eyes softened. “You deserve to find happiness darling, that’s all I’m saying.” She gave me a warm smile and left to tend to her nephew.  

 

I always put wheat-germ and flaxseed in Henry’s pancakes, made sure to use organic blueberries. I was determined to give him at least a little nutrition, even in something as supposedly unhealthy as pancakes. As he and my sister ate, I made myself a kale, yogurt and blueberry smoothie while simultaneously drinking my coffee. I called his nanny after the blender stopped.

“Mrs. Lucas? No, I don’t need you to watch Henry today,” I said warmly, “I’m calling because my son and I will be going on a week-long vacation tomorrow, and you will not be required to watch him until we return. Yes, thank you. Goodbye, Mrs. Lucas.” I hung up my cell and turned to find a grinning Henry with blueberry staining his mouth. I’d heard Zelena say ‘trip’ in a loud whisper while I’d been on the phone, and Henry had a vague grasp of the word, hence the thousand-watt smile.

I covered my mouth and laughed at his purple teeth. My sister laughed along with me, and my son just looked back and forth between us with wide, confused deep green eyes.

“Would you like to go on a trip with your Mommy, sweetheart?” I asked, taking a cloth from the edge of the sink and handing it to him. He nodded enthusiastically at my question but then frowned at the cloth in his hand. “Hijo, you have blueberry on your face,” I told him, bringing my hand up to my mouth and wiping it across my lips. He mimicked my action a few times and successfully rid his mouth of the sticky, maple-infused mess before handing the cloth back to me. I patted his head.

“So, where are you two going on such short notice?” Zelena asked, arching a fiery-red eyebrow.

“To the Cape, of course,” I answered, smiling, “My vacation house has been vacant for too long, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would,” my sister said, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth, “And maybe this is just what you need to untwist those knickers of yours. I’d accompany you if I could, darling, but you know Gregory could never survive a day without me.” I chuckled and she playfully rolled her eyes.


	3. Unexpected Kindness

**_Emma’s Pov_ **

I woke up to a growling stomach and a sticky face stiff from crying. _Once an orphan…_ With a heavy sigh, I sat up, stretched out the kink in my back and rolled my shoulders. I was completely out of money, the motel room had taken all of it, and my car only had half a tank left. _Gonna havta steal again._ I’d begged before, and after that, stealing seemed like a smaller thing on the pride spectrum. I put on my Chucks and folded the blanket I’d slept under, washed my face in a cracked, dirty sink, combed my hair with my fingers and left the hair-tie on my wrist. I pulled my leather jacket tighter, zipped it half-way. Promised myself I would find a better life… someday.

**_Flashback – Three Years Ago_ **

_"I’m only doing this for us, baby,”_ Lilly promised softly, blocking my view of the man sitting naked on his couch, grinning lewdly and stroking himself as he watched us. _“Just for us, okay?”_   she whispered in my ear.

I bit my lip.  _"_ _Don’t,”_ I choked out, _“We can find another way to get the money, baby. Please don’t do this."_

 _“We can do a threesome,”_ the guy named Neal cut in, _“I’m totally down with that, if it makes you more comfortable.”_

Lilly turned and glared at him. _"Touch Emma and you’ll be cock-less, Cassidy,”_ she growled.

My anger swelled. _“You know him,”_ I deadpanned. My girlfriend paled. _"This isn’t just another guy, you know him.”_

_“Emma –”_

_“How many times have you fucked him, Lil? Huh? How many times have you **fucked** him!?”  _I yelled, so furious I was trembling. We had a rule: She couldn't fuck a guy more than once, and here she was on last-name basis with the asshole! 

She took my face in both her hands, begged me to listen with her eyes. _“Only when I need the money, baby. I promise you Neal means nothing to me.”_

I was a little pacified by the softness in her gaze, but still fuming that this **_prick_** had laid his hands on my girlfriend, and that she had let him. _“I’ll do it,”_ I said. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. _“I don’t want him touching you.”_

_“Em, no! You’ve never even been –”_

_“Doesn’t matter,”_ I murmured numbly, looking over her shoulder and locking eyes with Neal,  _"_ _He’s not touching you.”_

I made Lilly wait in the car for the next twenty minutes, crying when I felt the condom break.

_***_

I told her about it two weeks later, when I noticed my period was late. I hadn’t spoken to her for three days after the stunt she pulled.

We were on the road to Tallahassee; the police had been called after we had robbed a gas station with unloaded glocks. It had been my idea, because come hell or high water, I’d be damned if I let another sleaze bag touch Lilly. The guy behind the counter had looked like he might piss himself. My girlfriend’s hands tightened around the Bug’s steering wheel. _“You’re pregnant? That bastard! I’m gonna –”_ My head was splitting, and I let out a deep sigh, pressing against the head-rest and squeezing my eyes shut.

 _“No, Lil,”_ I sighed tiredly, _“Fuck him. What matters is **this** ,”_ I gestured to my stomach, _“And what the hell I’m gonna do.”_

She pulled over, parked, looked at me with a mixture of sadness and anger in her eyes. _“ **We’ll** figure it out, Em. And when we do I’m turning Cassidy into a balless eunuch. I’m so sorry, baby, I –” _

I reached over and brushed a tear from her cheek. _“Hey, c’mon, don’t cry. We’ll… figure it out, like you said, right?”_

 _“Yeah,”_ she whispered, leaning over to kiss me, _“’Course we will.”_

**_End of Flashback_ **

He’d have had no life with me, that’s what I kept telling myself when I gave him away, with a salty kiss to his forehead. _Wherever you are, I hope you’re warm, safe, loved… Maybe someday I will be too. Cross your fingers, baby boy._

_***_

I ended up eating half a Whopper out of a trash can. Luckily it was wrapped.

 I made it to a gas station before my car died, pushing it into the parking lot. “Trouble, Miss?” I looked up, wiped my hands on my jeans. 

“Uh, yeah,” I said, eyeing the deep-voiced trucker suspiciously. Up North, people were never this damn nice. “No gas.”

He smiled, extended a large black hand. “Donell Smith.” His gaze was kind, and I detected a soft southern drawl that made me relax…but only a little.

“Emma Swan,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Can I help ya out? I’m jus’ passin’ through myself.”

“That’d be great, but… I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Don’t gotta give me nothin'," he shrugged. 

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiled again, “Whatdaya need?”

“Um, just uh, thirty bucks,” I stuttered. _Is this seriously happening?_ He got out his wallet and handed me a twenty and a ten. I wanted to cry. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling tears prick my eyes.

“Just payin’ it forward, Miss.”

I smiled, thanked him a second time, and went to fill my car up. He walked away with a bounce in a step. _Lookin’ out for me, are ya, Lil?_ I though as I climbed back into my Bug.

***

I drove aimlessly, listing to Jodi Mitchell’s ‘A Case of You’ on repeat and belting out the lyrics. It had been Lilly’s favorite song. _I miss you, baby. I know we weren’t easy, but I miss you._ I sighed, glancing out my rear-view to admire the stretch of ocean shimmering in the distance. I drove for another half an hour, looking for a roof to sleep under. I stopped when I came to a shining white beach house, right near the water. Letting out a low whistle, I took the place in. It was well cared for, empty for the time being. Rose bushes were in pots on the front porch, and two rocking chairs. _This’ll do._ I got out tentatively before remembering that this was a private residence and no one was around for at least a mile and a half.

The view from the porch was amazing. Guiltily, I took out the pin I had in my pocket and started picking the lock, hoping to God whoever owned this house didn’t have an alarm system. It was gorgeous inside, airy and open and _expensive_. There were bay windows, light oak floors, stainless steel countertops, white suede furniture, a huge flat screen mounted to the wall along with the most impressive system I had ever seen. I walked through the house, running the tips of my fingers along the finery and wishing, then scoffed at myself. _I won’t take anything… I can’t. I just need to sleep. I’ll figure something out in the morning._

Easing myself down on the couch, I laid back and shut my eyes, emotionally exhausted.

*** 

The first thing I heard was a shout of surprise, and then the sound of bags dropping. Opening my eyes, I stared at a wide-eyed brunette woman in a business suit and pea coat, mouth open in shock. I scrambled to my feet. “Shit! I’m sorry; I just needed a place to sleep. Don’t call the cops, I’m going,” I got out in an apologetic rush. I turned my pockets inside-out. “I didn’t take anything.” And, because she still hadn’t said anything and my heart felt like a hammer, I walked to the door.

“Wait.” The voice was uncertain, but deep and throaty. I turned back. “Who the hell are you?” Her chocolate brown eyes were full of confusion, but not fear, which surprised me.

“Emma,” I said, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma,” she repeated slowly, and I could see that her mind was trying to catch up with the surprise of it all.

“Yeah. Look, I’m really sorry. I just –” I shrugged helplessly, “I just needed a roof for tonight.”

She blinked. “You’re – you’re homeless?” That word had always left a bitter twist in my stomach. I nodded. “Oh,” she said, and I reached for the door handle again, uncomfortable. “When – when did you eat last?” It was a quiet question, and one I was completely unprepared to hear. I turned, stared at her disbelievingly. “You look like you could use a decent meal,” she murmured quietly, “And I – Well, I’ve got plenty.” She gestured to the grocery bags on the floor, then picked them up and said with a small smile: “You’re welcome to have dinner with my son and I, if you wish.”

“R-Really?” I asked around the blood pounding in my ears and my dry mouth.

“Seeing as how you are not armed and don’t intend to kill me… I suppose I can make an acceptation, though it is highly unorthodox.”

“I – thank you.”

“Regina Mills.”

“Regina,” I smiled, my heart swelling at the kindness this complete stranger was extending to me. _I guess there **are** good people in the world… _Funnily enough, I hadn’t actually believed that until today. Regina nodded and went to put the bags on the kitchen counter, taking off her coat and putting it on the rack beside the door. “My son, Henry, is still in the car. Sit, while I get him.” Silently, I did as she asked, my head still spinning as I sat on one of the bar-style chairs.

A few minutes later she came back with her arms full of a squirming kid and two duffels slung over her shoulder. “Here,” I said, coming over to get the bags from her, “Lemme help you.” She gave an appreciative smile, lowered her son down, and handed me one of the bags. “Thank you, Miss Swan.”

It didn’t feel right, having the woman who was offering me dinner and not calling the police on me call me by my last name. “Call me Emma, please." 

“Alright, Emma,” she said, and something in the way she said my name made me shudder, but in a good way. She walked over to the couch and deposited the bag, took off her blazer, and rolled up the sleeves of her button-up while walking to the kitchen.

“Is there – Um, is there anything I can do to help?” I asked awkwardly, meeting the gaze of the toddler who was staring at me from around his mother’s pant leg as she stood at the counter and unpacked groceries.

“No, that’s quite alright, I –” Henry pulled on her pant leg, pointed a finger at me. Regina placed her hand comfortingly on the boy’s back. “Don’t be frightened, hijo. This lady is not here to hurt us; she just needs a little help.”  

I put down the duffle I’d been holding and smiled at the boy. “My name is Emma, Henry.”

“Say hello, mi principito,” his mother softly encouraged.

He waved, still hiding. Regina chuckled. “I apologize; he’s a bit shy with strangers.”

“No worries,” I said easily, “I was too, a long time ago.” Something in my voice caught her attention, and her hands stilled for a moment as she looked at me, or rather looked _through_ me. I shifted on my feet.

“I’m sorry for whatever has happened to you, Emma, truly I am.” And I could tell that she _meant_ it, and something told me she knew all about pain, just like me.


	4. A Nightmare & A Note

**_Regina’s Pov_ **

Preparing dinner was a rather awkward affair. Emma kept her tentative eyes on me, looking for all the world as lost as… Well, an orphan. She fiddled with the frayed zipper of her leather jacket, shifted on her feet, looked around the house with her thumbs hooked in her jean’s belt loops – but all the while it felt as if she was watching me. A habit formed out of mistrust, I assumed. She dropped her gaze when I looked up from the marinara sauce I was making and offered a smile. “Do you like penne, Emma?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It smells great.”

“Good,” I smiled, “I’m known for my pasta, you know.” She nodded, shifted again, seemingly lost at what to do with my attempt at small talk. Henry, growing restless, began to whine and tug again at my pant leg. “Henry, be patient. Dinner is almost ready,” I said, patting his head affectionately.

“Maybe –” I locked eyes with Emma as she spoke, but her gaze flicked to my son instead of my face. _Why won’t you look at me?_ I asked silently, knowing I was likely never going to get an answer. “Maybe I can occupy him while you finish up?” It was asked with such innocence, such soft insecurity that I couldn’t help but smile.

“That would be appreciated, Emma. There’s coloring books in that bag –” I pointed to one next to the door, yet to be unpacked – “That should quiet him for a bit.” She nodded, went to collect his things. “Go on, mi principito. Show Emma how well you can color.” She put the things on the coffee table and knelt in front of it, offering Henry a full smile, which, I admitted to myself, was rather beautiful. He relented finally, going over to her and settling himself on the couch amidst color pencils and crayons. An odd flutter came to my heart at the sight; I wondered if the young woman had ever been a part of something so domestic.

*** 

Emma put down three full plates before claiming to be full. I watched with one eye on my own plate, fascinated that such a lean and strong body could consume that much food. She leaned back with a contented sigh and patted her stomach. “I can’t remember the last time I ate so well.” It was said lightly, but a frown marred her features immediately after uttering the words.

Still, I smiled fully.“I’m glad, dear.” I pushed my plate away and leaned on my elbows, steepling my fingers. “Will you tell me about yourself, Emma? You have no obligation, but if you’re comfortable enough, I’d like to hear some of your story.”

“Not much to tell,” she shrugged self-consciously, “I’ve been on the streets since seventeen.”

I schooled my features before answering, suppressing the shock and pity I felt. I swallowed thickly. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” She cocked her head. “How ‘bout you?”

“Thirty-two,” I replied.

She nodded. “Hubby won’t freak when he finds out you fed a street rat?”

I scoffed. “I have no husband, Miss Swan. And you are certainly not a rat of any kind.”

“Ah,” she said, my tone tipping her off, “I see.” Her grin was a knowing one, and I merely offered a smirk in return. 

“Thank you for all this,” she said after holding my eyes for a moment, “It was… nice.” I didn’t say _You’re welcome_. I refused to play the part of the boastful Samaritan with her; it felt wrong somehow, unjust, so I beamed at her instead.

“I’m pleased you enjoyed it, Emma."

She answered with a dip of the head, a quiet “I guess I should be going,” before getting to her feet.

I frowned. “Where to?” At her stiff shrug, I uttered words that surprised us both: “You can stay here if you wish.” She looked at me unbelievingly, her wide eyes giving away proof of her innocence when it came to receiving kindness. When she opened her mouth to protest, I let the sincerity of my words reach my eyes, and her lips pressed tightly together in response. “I insist, Miss Swan. It would weigh heavily on my conscience if you were to come to harm for lack of a place to sleep.”

“If you’re sure…” she muttered, bowing her head. The truth is I had no idea what had come over me, but for some reason helping this young woman seemed important. Zelena would undoubtedly accuse me of insanity, letting a stranger into my home like this, but Emma seemed trustworthy. She hadn’t stolen anything and seemed a thief out of necessity instead of desire.

“I am,” I murmured.

*** 

She insisted on helping with the dishes. I allowed it, happy to have the help. I settled Henry on the couch, putting on Spongebob and draping his favorite blanket over him before heading back to the kitchen. Emma was leaning against the counter. She had taken off her well-worn jacket, hung it up, and rolled up the sleeves of her faded Nirvana shirt. "You're good with him," she smiled. 

"Thank you. He is mi cielito." 

She arched a brow. "No hablo español," she chuckled. 

"It means he is my little sky," I clarified. 

"Cute," she said, turning to turn on the sink and fill it with Dawn. "I wash, you dry?" 

"That sounds doable," I agreed, gathering the plates and pasta bowl from the table. We were silent for awhile, lost in the task, until she broke it with a question. 

"Who taught you Spanish?" 

"My mother. Who taught you about Nirvana?" I shot back, earning a smirk from her. 

"My fifth foster family. The Henley's. Their old man was really into music. He even taught me how to play guitar."  

I stopped drying a dish and looked at her. "How many families did you have, Emma?" 

She met my eyes for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug. "Nine."  

" _Nine?_ " I couldn't help but imagine her as a little girl with tear-stained cheeks, and my heart gave a painful squeeze at the picture. 

"Yup," she said, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "But it doesn't matter - I'm used to being on my own." 

 _You shouldn't have to be_ _._ "Were the Henley's your favorite?" I asked, and then cringed inwardly; it was like asking which fruit she preferred, how she took her coffee. There wasn't an easy way to ask these types of questions, and if there was I was completely ignorant of it. 

"Yeah, actually," she said. "They got me when I was around thirteen, so the music...helped. I only stayed with them a year... Jake, the dad? He loved the bottle a little too much, and it made him a mean son of a bitch, but when he was sober, there wasn't a nicer guy in the world." She handed me the last dish as she spoke. "Anyway, I stayed long enough to learn that playing music was good for me." 

"It sounds like it was, dear."

Emma hummed and finished scrubbing the pasta bowl, a far away look in her eyes. After putting everything away, I invited Emma to watch TV while I gave Henry his bath. She agreed with a nod and I went to fetch my boy. 

 

Henry's squeals echoed off the bathroom walls, making me grin. He loved the water, and he also loved soaking me through. "Mi principito," I laughed, "Hold still!" 

"I'm a duck, Mommy! See?!" He made a quacking noise. 

"I see, little one, but even ducks have to get clean."

He cupped his hands beneath the bubbles and smeared them on his chin. "Now I'm Santa!" I laughed again, my eyes watering from the sight of his soapy smile. 

"Santa likes baths too," I said. That quieted him long enough for me to rinse his bubble beard, his hair, and get him out of the tub. "Time for bed, my little prince. We can play again tomorrow." He gave a thousand-watt smile at that.

*** 

Emma situated herself on the couch, despite my protests that she should have one of the guest rooms.  Without knowing why, I left one-hundred dollars on the counter beside her keys when she went to change into the sweatpants and T-shirt I’d lent her. It wasn’t like  I couldn’t afford it, between my job as mayor and the money I’d inherited from my father’s death, I was beyond wealthy, set for the rest of my life.

I was making myself my nightly cup of chamomile tea when I heard the door to my master suite open. “Enjoy your shower?” I asked as I mixed honey and milk into the tea.

“Yes. Um, Regina?” I turned at the quiet tone in her voice. Her hair hung freely, brushing a bit passed her shoulders and still damp. The forest-green shirt she wore set off her eyes impeccably. I swallowed a mouthful of tea to keep from saying she looked beautiful, realizing that it would sound absurdly forward, and probably carry with it a connotation that I indeed was not in my right mind.

“Yes, Emma?”

“Why are you doing all this? I mean, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do, but… you don’t even know me.”

“Simply put: Because I want to. You are a woman who has had the pains of life unfairly thrust upon her; I have the means to help you, and I see no reason why I should not.”

“I could’ve hurt you,” she protested, eyes unbelieving.

“But you didn’t,” I pointed out, “And therein lies my reasoning. You have not harmed me or my son, and you have not stolen. That tells me you are decent at heart, and only live the life you live because you have never known anything else.” She opened her mouth, closed it again. I smiled. “It’s alright, Emma. Believe it or not I know what it is to suffer.”

Her eyes left mine again.”Thank you.” I said goodnight to her then, not wanting to overwhelm her anymore than I already had. “Sleep good,” she muttered, glancing at me as I moved away.

“You too,” I said with equal softness. “Sweet dreams, Emma.”

***

I checked on her later in the night, and, seeing that she was in the throes of a nightmare, frowned.

“No,” she moaned, “No… Lilly.” I stepped closer, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, and I was alarmed to see tears leaking from her closed eyes.  “Sorry…”

“Emma,” I shook her gently, “Emma, it’s only a dream. You’re safe.”

She was thrashing now, her breathing coming in erratic gasps. Sweat clung to her skin. “Lilly!”

“Emma, wake up. It’s safe,” I soothed.

“No….No….NOOOO!” Frightened eyes snapped open, and she clutched my wrist in a vice grip.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s only me.”

“R–Regina?”

“You were having a nightmare, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.” Tears sprang to her eyes. I moved to kneel beside her and comb her hair with my fingers, much like I did when Henry was having a nightmare. She turned her open, watery gaze to me, and I felt my heart still in my chest. She had my son’s eyes. Not in color, as his were hazel and hers were a riveting green, but in expression and depth. “Emma…” I breathed.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. Whether the apology was to me or the one she called Lilly I couldn’t tell, but I attempted to reassure her nonetheless.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, honey. It was just a bad dream.” But at my words she cried all the harder, and I could do nothing but allow her the release of her grief. Eventually she fell quiet, her breathing evened, and I deemed it safe to extract my hand from her hair and return to bed.

In the morning, in place of her, I found  the PJ’s I’d given her neatly folded on the couch, along with the blankets. There was also a note on the kitchen counter written in a small, quick hand:

_Regina,_

_Thanks for everything. It’s not often I find people like you._

_~Emma_


	5. Pride Is Unnecessary In The Mind Of The Wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For those of us that suck at Spanish:
> 
> Espera un minuto, mi principito - Wait a minute, my little prince.

**_Emma’s Pov_ **

I took the money, feeling guilty even though I knew she left it for me. And _fuck_ , one hundred dollars?! The most I’d ever gotten was thirty – stealing not included. Regina was… not what I’d expected. Something told me she was never what _anyone_ expected.

I should’ve stayed, should’ve offered to babysit her kid or something, if she would’ve given me a place to stay till I got back on my feet. _When have you ever been on your feet, Swan?_ a voice in my head berated, _When Lil **put** you there?_ My hands tightened around the steering wheel. I couldn’t go back, could I? _And see the look of pity in her eyes when you show up at her door? No way._ She was sweet… _So were the rest of them, at first._ Her eyes were kind. _She was lying to you. Keep driving, Swan._ And go where!? _Anywhere. You’ve been on your own for years. You don’t need her._ Maybe I don’t **want** to be alone anymore...  _Fine, it's your funeral._

I sighed. I'd been sitting on the side of the road for ten minutes debating this. Opening my eyes I made a snap decision.

_Fuck it._

My tires squealed as I turned around. 

*** 

"Hi," I said sheepishly. _'Hi?’ Really, Swan?_ Regina stood barefoot, a pair of reading glasses atop her head, makeup-less and staring.

“Emma?” she blinked, “What are you –?”

“–Doing here?” I finished for her, scuffing my boot nervously. At her nod, I continued. “Um, I wanted to thank you, for last night and –” I sighed, my pride twisting my stomach into knots. “I… have a habit of taking off when I’m…”

“–Scared?” she supplied softly.

“Yeah,” I whispered, biting my lip and looking down at my feet. “Only, after I left, I realized that… I really didn’t have anywhere to go. So, would it be cool if I crashed here for awhile? I mean, you don’t have to, obviously, but, well, I thought maybe I could help you out with Henry? This is crazy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –” I rambled.

“Emma?”

“I mean, why would you even _consider_ this? You don’t even _know_ me…”

“Emma?”

“I must look so _pathetic_ right now… God, I’m so sorry, I’ll just g–” Warm hands were placed on my shoulders, they squeezed and I drew a shaky breath. The sting of tears came, but they stayed in my eyes.

 _“Emma…”_ _There’s that voice again; she makes my name sound like…_ “Sweetheart, look at me.” I raised my head, saw nothing but kindness. “Of course you can stay. You can stay as long as you need to. I’m not going to turn you away… Something tells me you’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime."

I gaped at her. “Are you – Are you God or something?”

Her laugh was a rumble in her chest. “No, dear. I am most assuredly _not_ God. Just a woman. No more, no less.”

The tears ran then. I wiped at them with my jacket sleeve. “Thank you.” Regina pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to me. It was silk, fucking _silk_ , with a black ‘R’ embroidered on it. “Jesus,” I said with a watery smirk as I dabbed my face clean, “How loaded _are_ you?” I winced, realizing how that must have sounded. “I, uh – I didn’t mean –”

“I know what you meant, dear. And to answer your question, I have enough to live comfortably,” she replied easily. “You needn’t worry about the cost of living here.”

My eyes went wide. “You’re saying I can stay for _free_?”

She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, a patient smile on her face. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Em-ma.”

“I – but, I have to pay you back.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“I can watch Henry…”

“That isn’t necessary. Henry has a sitter.”

“Regina, I have to do _something_.” I was pleading now, and didn’t give a damn. “Everyone wants _something_.”

She smirked. “I don’t.”

“I – but, you… that’s not –”

“Your propensity for stuttering is quite endearing, dear.” I blushed; she winked, gave me a teasing smile. “Now, come inside. Lunch is on the table.” 

*** 

Regina’s eyes didn't wander from me as I ate. Her gaze made me shrink into myself. “She doesn’t have a home, mi principito; we’re giving her one for the time being.” Henry frowned, and then the endless question of _‘Why?’_ started, ending with Regina shushing him gently and his little brow furrowing even more. 

Just as I had last night, I helped her with the dishes while Henry played with a  large yellow dump truck in the living room. He made _vroom-vroom_ noises, and cackled every time he crashed the toy into the couch. I couldn’t help but smile. The kid was so freakin’ cute. I wondered what my boy would have thought of him. That thought made me frown, and, like every time I thought of my nameless baby, guilt accompanied it. If Regina saw the shift in me, she didn’t comment.

“Emma, since you’re staying here, I have to ask…” she sighed, looked at me. "Please don’t think I’m being intentionally callous, but I need to know –”

I shook my head. “I’m not using. The worst thing I’ve ever done is pot and booze. I don’t mess with the hard shit – just lost someone to it.”

“You… get asked that question a lot?”

“When I was in the system, yeah.” I gave a rueful chuckle, “The foster parents always wanted to make sure I wasn’t tweaked outta my mind. I’ve seen what that shit can do to a person… it’s not pretty.”

“Lily?” she ventured quietly.

Something in me started to shake. I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry…”

The smile I gave her was brittle. “Don’t,” my voice cracked, my throat burned, “I can’t right now, Regina, please…”

“Of course,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain, Emma.” I nodded and went back to the dishes.

 

***

“C’mon, Mommy!” Henry squealed as he ran full force at the double glass doors that led to the back porch, which led to the ocean about a football field away. I smiled watching him, dressed as he was in orange floaties and little orange and white Bermuda shorts. Regina’s rich laugh floated from the kitchen – she was making a cooler for them and insisted I rest, because I must be tired – which I gathered was just her way of telling me to sit my ass down. So I picked up the hardcover version of Stephen King’s ‘ _Dumma Key’_  and situated myself on the couch, only half reading it because Regina in a bathing suit was fucking _distracting_. It was a one-piece, black, cut low with intentional rips at the sides, and I’d almost swallowed my tongue when I’d seen her carrying down the beach bags from upstairs.

“Espera un minuto, mi principito,” she called, and I watched Henry pout. When she came out a few seconds later, she smiled at her son’s impatient expression. “We can go now, little one.” His grin reached his eyes. I stood as she reached the doors, laden with bags and food, and opened them for her. Henry shot forward, running as fast as he could down to the water. Regina sighed and gave me a thankful smile. “You’re welcome to join us if you wish,” she offered.

I shook my head. “No thanks. Maybe next time?”

She nodded. “Take as much time as you need.”

The stone of guilt in my stomach gained another pound. “Do you mind if I use your phone? There’s a friend I should call.”

“Go ahead. The landline is in my study, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.” I blushed at her arched brow and teasing smirk. She’d picked up that my – what was the word she’d used? Propensity? – for stuttering was just as prominent as my snooping habit. Before I’d left, I’d given the place a once-over, restless as I’d been. I guessed she’d noticed something slightly off and known  it was me. Somehow that didn’t surprise me.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you in a bit.” I nodded and watched her take off after her son, calling his name.

**_Flashback – Three Years Ago_ **

_“It’s a boy, Emma,”_ the doctor declared, holding a crying, wriggling blue blanket that I realized was my _son_. Joy filled my heart, stayed there for about a full five seconds, until the doctor frowned and said _“Oh.”_

 _“Oh? What the hell do you mean ‘oh’?”_ I demanded through my tears. 

 _"_ _It appears your boy has a cleft lip. A small one, thankfully.  Don’t worry; it’s easily treatable with surgery.”_  I blinked at him, tears still spilling onto my cheeks, but now for an entirely different reason. _“Would you like to hold him? The sight can be frightening for some mothers.”_

I nodded and extended my arms. I winced when I saw it, but the uneasiness went away when his hand found my finger and squeezed. _“Hey, Little Man,”_ I murmured, kissing his forehead, _“I’m your Mama.”_ He cooed. _“I love you. Always remember that, okay?”_

 _“Your decision to give him up still stands?”_ The doctor cut in, looking like he wanted to murder me for even thinking it.

I nodded. _“I can’t be a mother.”_   And I _hated_ saying that, no matter how true it was.

They let me hold him for a few hours after. I hummed to him, whispered my hopes and dreams for him, and tried to memorize the green of his eyes. I told him my favorite color was yellow; that I loved him more than anything. I said I was sorry that I couldn’t keep him… I _sobbed_ , prayed to a God I wasn’t sure was real. _Please don’t let him hate me… Please…_

Lily came running into the room at quarter till two; she was done “working.” She kissed me gently, wiped at my tears, and sat on the bed to make faces at my son. I’d wished for a bottle, then, to keep the moment in. _“We can keep him, Em,”_ she murmured. _“Forget all this! We’ll get jobs, real ones, find a house –”_

_“You know we can’t, Lil.”_

_“Baby –”_

_“We’re too unstable, you know that. You’re twenty-three, I’m seventeen. We can’t raise him. He wouldn’t have a decent life with us.”_

_“So you’d rather put him in the same system that you hated?”_

My eyes welled at that. _“At least then he’d be safe… I just want him safe, I just want –”_ I started crying. Again.

 _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, shit baby I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –”_ she stopped talking and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. I melted into her, not even giving a damn that she smelt like cheap cologne and cigarettes. _“He’s so beautiful, Em,”_ she whispered in my ear after I’d calmed down, and we were both staring at his sleeping face in wonder, _“Just like you.”_

 _Yeah,_ I thought, _And I’m never gonna see him again._

**_End of Flashback_ **

I drew a shaky breath and tore my eyes away from Regina and Henry bobbing in the water. I needed to call Killian. 


	6. Revelations In A Yellow Shell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Capital - British - Good, excellent.
> 
> Tortillera - Offensive Spanish term used to refer to lesbians.

**_Regina’s Pov_ **

“You did _what_?!” The expected screech still made me wince and hold the phone away from my ear. “Regina, have you gone _mad_?” My sister’s voice was a conspiratorial whisper now, but shock still laced her tone. “What the bloody _hell_ are you thinking?!”

“She needed a place to stay, Zelena. I couldn’t turn her away.”

She replied with a scoff. “Are you really that lonely, Sis?”

“It has nothing to do with that,” I bit out. “I’m simply trying to do the right thing.”

“By letting a complete stranger into your house? Brilliant idea, darling. I just hope Poppet is safe.”

“She isn’t that kind of person, Ze. The way she looks at him… It just doesn’t seem plausible.”

“You’ve gone ‘round the bend, Sis,” she sighed, “Lack of sex will do that to a person, you know.”

“ _Zelena_ ,” I hissed.

She chuckled. “Mummy Dearest will _love_ this.”

I took a deep breath, focused on my son playing in the surf with a red bucket, trying to catch minnows. “You are not to breathe a word of Emma, understand? I will explain things to Mother once I return.”

“Emma, is it? You’re already on first-name basis with the girl who broke into your home? Capital, Regina.”

I groaned, ran a hand through my wet hair. “ _Must_ you be so antagonizing?”

“Of course darling,” she answered, and I could _hear_ her smile, “It keeps you on your toes. I must be off, the garden needs tending and I want to get some work done before Gregory comes home. Ciao, Sis. Do give my love to the little prince.”

“I will,” I smiled. “Talk soon.” 

Henry had started the beginnings of a sandcastle, but all he had so far was a lump of wet sand. I smiled at his concentrated frown. My son definitely had a creative flair; he was always trying to make something out of nothing. Much like Emma, I supposed.

“Mommy!” He was holding something up for me to see.

“What did you find, my little prince?” I called, unable to see what he held between his fingers due to the sun. He came running, little legs becoming stronger by the day. Holding out his hand he showed me a small yellow shell.

“For her,” he said in his quiet, unsure way, nodding towards the house.  I could only grin fondly at his kindness, and push back the wet hair plastered on his forehead.  “It’s yellow, like her hair.”

“I’m sure Emma will love it, sweetheart. Let’s go inside and give it to her, hmm?” At his empathetic nod and infectious smile, I packed up our belongings and we went back to the house, hand in hand. 

***

Emma was reading when we walked in, curled comfortably on the couch with her knees drawn up and the book balancing on them. She dog-eared her page and put the book aside, giving Henry and I a shy smile. “Hi. How was the beach?” 

“Lovely,” I replied with a smile of my own. “Henry, darling, why don’t you give Emma what you found, hmm?” A blonde brow rose. Henry walked forward with his fist extended, smiling shyly. Emma sat up, attentive and curious. When the shell was dropped into her palm, she beamed.

“Yellow,” she whispered. My little boy nodded. “Thank you, Henry. I love it.” She was looking both at him and the small gift with something akin to awe, and I wondered how often the girl had been given anything just for the sake of giving. “Yellow’s my favorite color.” Henry was standing close to her, examining her as she was examining him, shifting on his small bare feet. I watched silently from the door, wondering if…

“Henry, how did you get that?” Emma ran her long fingers over her own lip.

“Mommy said I had a boo-boo when I was born. It’s all gone now,” he said with a smile in his voice. Emma looked like she was going to faint. I strode across the room and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. It quivered under my touch as she drew a shaky breath.

“Emma?” I murmured. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, and I knew she understood. Henry was frowning, looking back and forth between us with confusion wrinkling his forehead. I smiled at him. “It’s all right, my little prince, Emma is just very grateful for your gift.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, though the tears, silent and strong, didn’t stop. Henry looked at her, his expression shifting to one of concern. He reached out and touched her wet cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he said, leaning forward to peck her forehead with pouty lips. I felt my own eyes well.

“Can I… Can I give you a hug, Henry?” He nodded and wrapped his arms around her neck. She bit her lip, stifling a sob, and held him close, one hand on his still damp back and the other in his hair. The beauty of the moment was incomparable, true and heartwarming yet tinged with grief and a sadness that was felt but could not be voiced. I loved them both fiercely suddenly, loved Emma’s innocence and buried pain, Henry’s willingness to _give_. I knew in that moment, Emma regretted everything, that she had loved her son from the moment he was born. She placed a kiss atop his head and pulled away, eyes red-rimmed and chest heaving.

“Emma,” I said gently, noticing how she was still shaking with the realization, “Perhaps you ought to rest?”

She gave me a thankful smile. “Yeah. You don’t mind if I –?”

“Of course not,” I reassured softly. She nodded, and with one last look at Henry, stood and headed for the stairs. I sighed as I watched her go, taking in the slumped shoulders and defeated posture of a woman too young to have such burdens. _And yet_ , I thought, _She has them_. _Why the world can be so unabashedly cruel to those least deserving of its ire I will never understand_. “Come, hijo, let’s get you out of those wet things, shall we?”

 

When Henry was settled, wrapped in his favorite blanket and watching cartoons contentedly on the couch, I went to check on Emma. I found her on my bed, lying on her side with a pillow clutched to her side. I realized as I walked in and quietly shut the door that I hadn’t told her which room was the guest room. “I had a baby boy three years ago,” Emma began in a strained voice. “He… had a cleft lip.” She swallowed, still keeping her eyes to the wall and not looking at me. “I told him my favorite color was yellow…”

“Emma,” I said gently, coming to sit beside her, “I don’t think this is a coincidence. I’m… almost certain you’re Henry’s birthmother.” She looked at me, wide-eyed. “He’s three; he has a scar from a cleft lip, and… you have the same eyes.” She frowned at that, so I explained: “During your nightmare, you… looked at me the same way Henry does when he’s frightened. The resemblance was uncanny. That’s when I began to suspect that you were –”

“I didn’t wanna leave him, Regina. I swear to God I didn’t!” She sobbed, ruining my pillow cover with tears. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“I know, sweetheart,” I murmured, feeling an urge to take her in my arms and comfort her, but not knowing how she’d react to touch. I stilled my hands and gave a compassionate smile. “But you did the right thing, Emma.”

She snorted. “By putting him in the same system I came from?”

“No,” I whispered, “By giving me a son.” At that she raised her head to look at me; she had that look of awe again, like she couldn’t imagine giving anyone anything besides trouble and heartache. “My life was… very dark before Henry came into it. My father had died a year before I adopted him. I was very close with him; my mother blamed me for his death, claiming that the disgrace of having a tortillera for a daughter stopped his heart.”

Emma frowned. “Lemme guess – tortillera means gay, right?”

“It applies to lesbians, yes. My mother’s a Catholic, and a narrow-minded one at that. So,” I said, “You can imagine the relief I felt when Henry came into my life.”

Emma nodded, regarding me silently. “Why Henry?” she asked quietly.

“It was my father’s name.”

“I’m sorry about your Dad. It sucks… losing someone like that.” 

“Yes, it does.”

She took a deep breath, wiped her drying eyes. “Regina… I’m glad it was you. I mean, I’m glad you chose him. I didn’t want him to end up – well, like me.”

“You give yourself too little credit, Emma. You are a kind, selfless woman.” I smiled at her pink-tinged cheeks. “I don’t think Henry ending up like you would be a bad thing at all.”

She met my eyes, then looked away. “T–Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me for speaking the truth, Miss Swan.”

She nodded. “We should, um, probably get back to Henry, right?”

“Indeed we should,” I agreed, “It’s time to start preparing dinner. Perhaps you’d like to help?”

“I’m not – I’m not really much of a cook. I might accidentally end up poisoning you guys.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure it’s edible.”

She gave me a tentative smile and slid off the bed. “Okay,” she said, and then frowned when she looked at the mess on my pillow. “I’m uh, sorry about that…”

I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. “It’s nothing. My bed has endured more than a few tears, I assure you.”

“This is _your_ bed? Shit, I thought it was the guest room! I’m sorry, I –”

“ _Emma_ ,” I said, halting her mid-tirade, “It’s alright.” She gave me a sheepish look, and nodded.


	7. Small World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The song 'Rockabye Baby' by Clean Bandit is used in this chapter. I changed some of the lyrics to fit the fic. 
> 
> Spanish Translations: Mi cielito - My little sky.
> 
> ¿Ahora? - Now? 
> 
> Estarás cansado por la mañana de lo contrario - You will be tired in the morning otherwise.

_**Emma’s Pov** _

I kept stealing glances at Henry over my shoulder as Regina tried to teach me how to make lemon barbecue chicken.  _My son… my baby boy._ I repeated it in my head to try and convince myself that it was _real_ , but I still felt like I was in some kind of messed up fairytale. Regina stayed quiet, letting me gaze at him with affection that manifested itself in the physical clenching of my heart. “Emma,” her voice floated to my ear, followed by the gentle grip of her warm hand on my wrist. I was still cutting onions, albeit distractedly, but the touch made me still. I blinked,  looked at her guiltily. “You’re going to cut your fingers off if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

A throaty chuckle that made my cheeks burn. “It’s all right, dear. Why don’t you go sit with him, hmm? I’ve only a few more things to finish here and then we can eat.” I nodded and gave her a smile. Henry grinned as I situated myself next to him, all teeth, and I wanted to cry. _Again. Fuck_ , I thought, _When did I become such a sap?_

Dinner was… Nice. Strange, but nice. And although a part of me wanted to run, because I didn’t _do_ this kind of thing, the orphan in me was cautiously optimistic.  _My first dinner with my son_. I had to keep swallowing around the lump in my throat, and Regina, over Henry’s excited chatter about going back to the beach tomorrow, looked at me with a happy gleam in her eyes. 

I still didn’t understand it – how she could be so kind without wanting a damn thing. People weren’t _like_ that. Not to mention she was loaded, with her beach house and fucking embroidered handkerchiefs. And she was _nice_ , like, God-sent nice. I didn’t have another word for it. More than that, though, was that it seemed she _understood_ , like she knew about pain and wanting and not getting. I frowned. Maybe that was why? Was she so giving, because she knew what not getting was like?  Beyond her thinly veiled nod to a past with  _I know what it is to suffer?_ Okay, _that_ I understood, but still, the enormity of it, of what she’d offered, was just… Crazy. _Because I want to_ , she’d said. _I **want** to_. No other reason. No deal or blackmail or guilt-trips for being a horrible mother. _I can make up for it, I **will** make up for it_.

“Emma?” Henry was looking at me. "You okay?” His voice was soft; he sounded a little like he had cotton in his mouth.

I smiled, looked up from my half-eaten dinner. “Yeah, bud. I’m okay.” He nodded and forked the last bite of pre-cut, plain chicken into his mouth. My kid had an appetite, that was for sure.

"Time for bed, mi cielito."

“¿Ahora?” he whined, even while rubbing his eyes. _Yup. Definitely my kid. Stubborn as a mule._ I hid a smile behind my hand.

"Sí," she replied with an indulgently soft smile, "Estarás cansado por la mañana de lo contrario."

"Um, what?” I asked, blinking in confusion.

Regina laughed.”I said he would be tired in the morning. He's a bit hard to get to sleep.”

“Oh,” I nodded, “Right. C'mon little man, be good for your Mom, okay?” His scowl eased a little as he looked at me. _You really do have my eyes..._

“Story?” he asked.

Regina grinned. “Of course.”

She took him upstairs, his little arms wrapped around her neck and his legs wrapped around her waist. I followed behind, watched from an open doorway as my son was lowered into bed, tucked in and loved and read to. I couldn't look away from them, even though my eyes burned with tears.  _You did it, baby boy. You found your happy ending._

As Snow White rode off into the sunset with her Prince, Henry's eyes drooped closed. “Goodnight, my little prince,” Regina murmured, kissing his forehead and then turning off his Toy Story lamp, “Sweet dreams.

Emma,” she whispered in that calming, velvety deep voice of hers as she caught sight of me still in the doorway, light streaming in from behind me.

“Hi,” I said, voice thick with emotion.

“Hi,” she smiled, coming out of the room. I stepped aside and watched silently as she cracked his bedroom door, then motioned for me to go back down to the living room. “Are you alright?” she asked when we'd reached the bottom of the stairwell, “You seem... Distracted.”

 _I'm a lot of things. Alright is not one of them._ I sighed. "It's just that... You're so good with him, and I feel so shitty that I wasn't there. I wanted to be, Regina." 

 "I know," she said softly. "Come, sit." I walked with her into the living room, situating myself wearily on the couch. "Would you like some wine?"

I nodded. She reappeared moments later with two glasses of red wine, handing me one with a genial smile. "It's Château Lafite." 

"You know about wine?" I asked, taking the glass and watching as she sat opposite me. 

"A bit. My mother insisted I be... knowledgeable about certain things, and completely ignorant of others." 

"Such as?" 

"Many things." 

I knew a dismissive tone when I heard one. "Sounds like a killjoy," I muttered into my glass, taking a sip.

"Indeed." She chuckled, watching my face as I drank. "It's okay, Emma, you don't have to drink it. Wine is an acquired taste."

"No shit," I agreed, thankful that I didn't have to drink what passed for alcohol among the snooty. 

"Emma?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Will you - Will you tell me about your life? About Lily?" 

I gulped,  _made_ myself look into her eyes. "We, um, wanted to keep him, y'know? But I was seventeen and she was twenty-three, and... It just wouldn't have worked. We were too... Nomadic, I guess. We had to do some fucked-up things to get by..." 

"Where did you and Lily meet?" 

"In Portland."

"As in Oregon?" 

I nodded. "Yeah..." I said slowly, "Why?" I frowned, she had a far away look in her eyes. 

"Nothing, it's just... My ex had a daughter named Lily, and-"

All the color drained from my face.

"Emma?"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..."  Regina looked at me worriedly, her hand had found its way to my knee.  _There's no way, no fucking way!_ I gulped. "Was her name Mal?" 

Her eyes widened. "How-?" 

I rubbed my face with my hands. "Holy shit."

"My thoughts exactly." We sat in awed silence. This kind of shit didn't just  _happen_ , and if I didn't believe in fate before meeting Regina, I sure as shit had enough evidence to the contrary  _now_.

"So," I said slowly, when I'd gathered my thoughts enough to speak, "You... met Lil, then?" 

"Briefly, yes. Before she... Well, before the drugs, and Portland. Mal introduced me. It was her sixteenth birthday. I had no idea she died... Mal never told me, I -" She took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at me with sadness brimming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Emma." I felt the burn of tears in my throat. My nails made moon shapes in my palms.  _Don't you dare fucking cry, Swan. Not now. Breathe. Just breathe._ "It's okay..." Regina said gently, her voice barely above a whisper.  _Ha! That's rich, not **one** thing about this is okay. She didn't mean it like that and you know it... No, don't shrug her off. Her hand's warm. Mmm... That feels nice; circles on my back, how did she guess I liked this?  Does Henry like the same thing? Probably. The panic is ebbing. She's **really** good at this. _ "That's it, Emma, deep breaths."  _Right, okay. In, out, in, out, in... out._ "Better?" she murmured, her hand stilling on my back.

"Yeah," I croaked, then sniffed. "Um... thank you. How - How did you get so good at this?"

"My sister, Zelena, used to have panic attacks when she was a teenager. She liked to be touched during them, it grounded her. I know that each person responds to panic differently, but given how you've responded to my touches previously, I figured you were the same in that regard." _I can't be that easy to read... She must just be paying attention. To me._ Regina arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at me. "Am I wrong? I apologize if-"  

"No, no you're not wrong. It's just..."  _Ugh, words._ "Do you have any idea how fucking incredible you are?"  _Well, that's one way to say it._ She smiles,  _really_ smiles, and I'm in awe again.  _How is she even human?_ "I mean, you... You're so  _nice_ , and people don't do things like this for people like me."

"People like you?" 

I nodded. "Yeah. Degenerative pieces of shit who never had a chance in hell. Junkies. Homeless, jobless, intentional assholes who don't even have their damn GED, so they steal to make up for it. People like me." 

"You're none of those things, Emma. Yes, you've had to do some unscrupulous things to survive, but guess what? You've  _survived_ , and made the most of the hand you were given. _That_ , my dear, is something to be proud of. And," she lightly squeezed my knee, picked up her glass again. "As I've said, despite your tribulations, you still have a good head on your shoulders. You're not wasting away in an alley, or drinking yourself to death, or  _stopping_ , Emma. You're fighting the game of life - and you're winning."

"See?" I said, "That is what makes you so goddamn _confusing_!  Why, Regina?" I stood up, started pacing in front of her. "Why me? Why are you doing all of  _this_ ," I gestured to myself, to the clothes of hers I wore, "For me?" 

"Why not you, Emma?" she asked softly. "Look at me, please." I stopped walking, held her gaze even though my eyes stung and her face was blurry. "Why not you?" she whispered again. I bit my lip. 

"Because..." My voice wavered, shook like water. "Because I'm _shit_!" I rasped out. "Okay, Regina?! I'm shit. Lily? She OD'd on E. She OD'd and I fucking  _let_ her take the pill! I tried to save her, I tried..." My shoulders trembled. "It wasn't enough, and now she's dead. Because of me." 

"Emma..." Regina stood. All I heard was the clink of an empty wine glass on the coffee table before I felt her arms wrap loosely, tentatively, around me. "Shhh... It's not your fault, I promise." And that did it, the dam holding in my emotions broke free. I clutched at the back of her cotton button-up like it was a raft out at sea. "Shhh, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Lily made her own choice." 

I couldn't speak. I just sobbed, because what do you say to a stranger who smells like cinnamon and whose arms feel like _safety_? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
  
"Regina?" I murmured when I finally calmed. We were sitting on the couch again. I was staring at a picture of her and Henry hanging on the wall beside the TV. I hadn't noticed it before. She was sipping her second glass of wine, as lost in her own thoughts as I was in mine. 

"Yes?" 

"Do you ever think about how small the world actually is?" I muttered, keeping my eyes on the picture of my son on his first birthday. He was in a high-chair, covered in chocolate cake, naked except for his diaper and a little party hat that said  _"I'm 1!"_ in swirling blue and yellow writing. Regina was laughing beside him, which made her face come alive in a beautifully vivacious way. Her eyes were crinkled in pure joy, and that detail made me  _ache_. Ache for my son, ache for this thing called  _happiness_ which always got away from me.

"You know," Regina said lowly, following my gaze, "I never really thought of it until now."

*** 

Regina had gone to bed an hour ago. She'd insisted I sleep in the guest room this time. This time, I did. But I stared at the ceiling like it had the answers to the mess called my life. Sighing, I slipped out of the Queen-sized bed and padded on bare feet down the hall to Henry's room. Opening the door, I slipped in, and closed it silently behind me. Moonlight streamed in from my son's window. The curtains, which were navy-blue like his bedding, were parted so the window could be opened half way. A breeze gently ruffled the fabric. and the waves of the ocean lapping at the shore could be heard in the distance. A half-moon hung in the sky, speckled with stars. I wondered briefly if he ever wished on those stars like I had, but then thought he'd have no reason to wish for anything in a place like this. 

The room smelled of little boy. Of clean sheets and ocean and a scent that was all Henry. He was tucked snugly in, sleeping in a fetal position with his face toward me. The blankets were pulled to his chin.

I dropped to my knees beside his bed. "Hey, baby boy," I whispered, brushing his hair with feather-light touches of my fingers. "I've missed you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Henry. But, Mama's here now, and she's gonna try really hard to stay in your life, okay?" Tears came again, and I wiped at them with the knuckles of my left hand. "Your other Mommy is... so much better at this than me, Little Man. She deserves all the credit in the world. I just want you to know that I love you too, that I'm here, too. I will always love you and you will always be my son, no matter what." I sighed. Good, I hadn't woken him up. I studied his face, the peaceful innocence of his expression, the scar on his lip. He really was beautiful. 

Clearing my throat, I started to hum, then sing softly, my voice as soft as the darkness around me.  
  
"She works the night, by the water,  
She's gonna stray, so far away, from her father's daughter.  
She just wants a life, for her baby,  
All on her own, no one will come  
She's got to save him.  
  
She tells him:  _'Ooo love_  
_No one's ever gonna hurt you, love,_  
_I'm gonna give you all of my love,_  
_Nobody matters like you.'_  
She tells him:  _ **'** Your life ain't gonna be nothing like my life._  
_You're gonna grow and have a good life,_  
_I'm gonna do what I've got to do.'_  
  
So, rockabye baby, rockabye,  
I'm gonna rock you.  
Rockabye baby, don't you cry,  
Somebody's got you.  
Rockabye baby, rockabye,  
I'm gonna rock you.  
Rockabye baby, don't you cry,  
Rockabye.  
Rockabye.  
  
Single mom what you doin' out there?  
Facin' the hard life without no fear.   
Just see and know that you really care,  
'Cause any obstacle come you well prepared.  
And no Mama you never shed tear,  
'Cause you haveta set things year after year.  
And you give the youth love beyond compare,  
You find the school fee and the bus fare.  
Mmmm, Henry the Paps disappear,  
In a wrong bar can't find him nowhere.  
Steadily you work flow, heavily you know so you never stop,  
No time, no time for a jeer.

Now she gotta a three year old,  
Tryin' to keep him warm,  
Tryin' to keep out the cold.  
When he looks in her eyes,  
He don't know he is safe when she says:  
  
_'Ooo love,_  
_No one's ever gonna hurt you, love,_  
_I'm gonna give you all of my love,_  
_Nobody matters like you._  
_So, rockabye baby, rockabye._  
_I'm gonna rock you,_  
_Rockabye baby, don't you cry,_  
_Somebody's got you._  
_Rockabye baby, rockabye._  
_I'm gonna rock you,_  
_Rockabye baby, don't you cry.'"_  
  
  
For a moment, my own pity and self-hate swallowed me. Then Regina's words echoed in my head.  _I don’t think Henry ending up like you would be a bad thing at all_ , and: It's not _your fault._ I get to my feet. "I know it's not much of a lullaby, kid," I whispered to his still sleeping form. "Sorry. I'll try to do better next time." Keeping his door slightly ajar just as Regina had done, I gave my son one last glance before heading back to bed, content knowing he'd still be here in the morning. 


End file.
